


Reunion of the Fallen

by amarielah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Touch-Starved, suitless!vader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarielah/pseuds/amarielah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Obi-Wan took the chance to flee from Vader rather than defeat him, he still ends up a hermit in the Jundland Wastes. But Vader manages to track him down, and Obi-Wan must comply with his demands lest he risk Luke's discovery. Complications ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen shamelessly from an episode of Fullmetal Alchemist.

His first thought when he felt the presence – as foreign as it was familiar, burning in the Force – was that all was lost. If Vader was here, he must have found out about Luke, and any hope for the Galaxy's future was to be snuffed out. But then Qui-Gon whispered to him through the Force:  _He will not discover the boy;_ _too much doubt remains by Shmi Skywalker's grave._

The assurance ringed with truth through the Unifying Force, and it was enough to lift Obi-Wan's spirits despite the ever-approaching miasma of Vader's presence. He had little doubt that Vader was here to kill him – revenge for any number of betrayals, both perceived and real. In truth, there was a part of him that would gladly give the Sith Lord his life. Penance, for failing him. And a desire for freedom from a world where Anakin Skywalker no longer existed. It was a childish, selfish impulse, he knew – he had a responsibility to remain alive for Luke's sake, and ultimately the Galaxy's. And he had yet to complete his training with Qui Gon; if he died now, he would not be able to find transcendence in the Cosmic Force.

It was his attachment to Anakin that still held him back. The irony of this was not lost on him.

Indeed, with Vader so nearby, he could scarcely ignore that emptiness that had been gnawing away at him since he'd fled from their fight on Mustafar. Since the realization that the person he had loved most in the galaxy – in defiance of the code to which he had dedicated his life – was lost to him forever. He had always known that he was to be by Anakin's side when he died, and he couldn't find in himself to mind that this would mean dying by his hand. Or at least, by the hand of the man who wore his face.

It was good enough, in the end.

He didn't turn around when he heard Vader's heavy footfalls on the sandstone floor of his abode, struck for a moment by their familiarity. If he were the sort to indulge in fanciful daydreams, he could perhaps allow himself to imagine that they were back in the quarters they had shared in the Temple.

But Obi-Wan was not the sort to indulge in such fantasies.

"May I offer you something to drink, Darth?" he asked, tone casual. "I have some very nice water from a local farm, if you're interested. My own vaporator has been rather unreliable lately."

"These are the Jundland Wastes; there's no such thing as a "local farm" out here." Vader's voice was deep and artificial, filtered through a vocabulator, but the inflection was as familiar as his footsteps.

"I suppose it all depends on your point-of-view," Obi-Wan countered, finally turning around. "I consider anything that can be reached on Eopie-back in a single day to be "local"."

Of course, Obi-Wan knew about the mask that Vader wore to conceal his previous identity from the public. It was clearly inspired by ancient Sith battle droids, sleek and black and menacing. And yet, Obi-Wan found it oddly comforting that Vader wore it now. Better to see the mask than the golden eyes of a Sith Lord staring out from Anakin's face.

"I must admit that I'm surprised at you, old man," said Vader, advancing forward a few more steps. "Living as a hermit on this useless dustheap is about the last thing I expected you to do. You certainly can't rebuild your precious Order out of sand."

Obi-Wan's lips quirked upward. "One must let go of one's attachments in the face of a reality that does not allow for them, even if one is not a Jedi."

"For someone who's always claimed to distrust politicians, you're very good at speaking like one," said Vader. "You can save your Jedi platitudes for your non-existent disciples; I'm fully aware that this is all a self-indulgent attempt at penance."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Shall we not cut to the chase? I know I have my lightsaber lying around here somewhere, though I fear I'm rather out of practice."

Vader let out a sound that was probably meant to resemble a laugh. "I didn't come here to put you out of your misery, old man. If you want to commit suicide that badly, you can swallow your Jedi pride and do it yourself."

"...I suppose I really am that transparent," said Obi-Wan, smiling ruefully. "Well then: if you're not here to kill me, I daresay I'm at a loss."

"I'm not saying that I'm  _never_ going to kill you." Vader held out a black-gloved hand, palm-up. "But not just yet. For now, I want you to come with me."

"And if I refuse?"

"You won't," said Vader. "Because you realize that being a hermit is pretty much the same wherever you are, and you're only going to cause needless suffering by defying me."

Obi-Wan understood that the threat was real, even if it was incredibly vague. In truth, he had no intention of resisting – not while Luke was only a few hundred kilometers away, and the danger of his discovery rose with every second that Vader remained on Tataooine – but it had felt only right to make a token effort.

He sighed again. "Yes, you're quite right." Quirking a brow, he said, "Shall we go, then?"

Vader said nothing, but turned to leave, his black cape billowing behind him. It was all quite melodramatic.

Obi-Wan followed diligently.

* * *

The flight to wherever it was that they were going was a silent one, with Obi-Wan stuck in a make-shift brig. It was a small vessel – certainly far, far smaller than the ships Vader now commanded on a regular basis. Vader was clearly not doing this with his Master's approval.

Obi-Wan used the time to meditate, trying his best to release his emotions into the Force. Qui-Gon spoke to him only briefly, perhaps to reassure him that he was not bound by the confines of a single planet.

_You must let go of this attachment, Obi-Wan. So long as it persists, you will never be free._

The words were true, of course, but not very helpful. Other images came to him through the Force: of Vader, hunting those few Jedi who remained. And, from his own memories, he saw Vader cutting down the younglings. Using the Force to choke the life out of Padme.

Each one was like a knife being jammed into his heart.

Obi-Wan didn't know how long their journey was, but it seemed like a very long time before Vader came to let down the shield that separated Obi-Wan from the rest of the ship. The silence between them was tense, but Obi-Wan did nothing to break it. There was nothing of value to say to the Sith Lord, and many useless things to say that would lead down a path that Obi-Wan wished to avoid.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be distracted by the lush beauty that surrounded them. The poorly-maintained path was flanked by a multitude of trees with thin, feather-like leaves, in hues of red and green and orange. Their drooping branches formed a canopy above their heads, sunlight filtering through to make dappled patterns upon the ground. Condensation from the leaves occasionally dripped down to tickle the exposed skin of his face, as if mocking the shoddy vaporator that Obi-Wan had stopped trying to repair more than two years prior.

Obi-Wan had grown very fond of the desert's stark beauty, but he could admit that this was a welcome change of pace.

They eventually arrived at a large but otherwise modest house, no doubt constructed fairly recently due to the lack of overgrowth encroaching on its walls. The architecture reminded Obi-Wan of the houses he'd seen in Theed.

The interior – though luxurious compared to the hovel he'd inhabited for years – wasn't especially immodest either. Spacious, with comfortable-looking but utilitarian furniture. Most striking to Obi-Wan were the droid parts stacked neatly on a table against the back wall of the living room. The sight was all-too familiar, and he couldn't look at it for very long.

Vader lead him up a staircase and into a bedroom, then gestured to a semi-transparent door. "The 'fresher is there. Go wash off the sand."

Obi-Wan complied without comment. There was a large bathtub along with a shower, and he decided that he was going to indulge himself. It had been so long since he'd bathed in actual water, and Vader hadn't specified that he be quick.

He stripped off his tattered clothing when the bathtub had filled, descending into the scalding water with a soft sigh. It was too hot, but he didn't care. He lay his head back against the smooth white tile and closed his eyes.

* * *

For a moment, he thought he must be dreaming, feeling the softness beneath him as Anakin's face hovered above. He reached up to touch that face, half expecting his hand to pass through his dear friend as if he were a hologram. But his fingers connected with warm, solid flesh, and Obi-Wan felt his eyes burning.

"Anakin," he said, almost choking on the name, before reality came crashing in and he remembered where he was. He let his arm drop back down and took a deep breath, trying in vain the release his emotions into the Force.

"You fell asleep in the water," said Vader. If he was angry about being called by his old name, it wasn't evident in his tone. "Your head was almost completely submerged by the time I decided to see what the hell you were doing."

Obi-Wan managed a small, sardonic smile. "A very dignified death, to be sure." His voice sounded as threadbare and ragged as the clothing he'd discarded in the 'fresher. It was at that point he realized he was naked, and shivered. "I don't suppose you have something clean for me to wear."

Vader didn't answer for a moment, his eyes trailing down the length of Obi-Wan's body. They were blue, Obi-Wan noted, even as he tensed under the scrutiny. It was a look he was familiar with, from back when he and Anakin had shared living quarters in the latter part of Anakin's apprenticeship. It was...appreciative. Obi-Wan pushed himself upright and said, "If you wish to humiliate me, there are far more interesting ways to go about it than keeping me naked."

That earned him a smirk. "I only wanted to see if a few years of desert living had taken their toll yet," he said. "As I recall, you used to be very insistent about having patience."

"I'm rather cold," Obi-Wan replied, matter-of-factly.

Vader quirked his brows, but walked over to a chest of drawers built into the wall. He pulled out some simple-looking clothing and tossed them to Obi-Wan: brown trousers and an off-white tunic, like something he would've worn under his robes back at the Temple. Obi-Wan pulled them on gratefully.

"I have some business to attend to," said Vader. "Get some rest while I'm gone."

'Don't try to escape,' went without saying.

* * *

Vader was gone for two days, leaving Obi-Wan to stew over what might happen next. He meditated; he ate; he watched the holonet; he even trained in the dojo he'd found beside the living room. But all of it was underscored by the tension of uncertainty.

To make matters worse, Qui-Gon had fallen silent.

All in all, he had a very bad feeling about this.

Once or twice, he considered fleeing the house on one of the many speeders and swoop bikes he'd found at the back of the property, but his instincts screamed against it. Vader had certainly not left any means of leaving the planet, and he would do himself no good getting lost in an unfamiliar wilderness.

So he waited with the patience befitting a Jedi Master, and found himself longing for the desert.

There was only the one bed, though it could admittedly fit three people comfortably, and it was there that Vader greeted Obi-Wan when he returned. Obi-Wan was reading one of the datapads he'd found on a nearby shelf – one of the few that didn't contain blueprints and technical language that Obi-Wan could only vaguely understand.

"Found something interesting?" It was Anakin's voice, unfiltered by the mask, and Obi-Wan responded automatically.

"It wouldn't be my first choice, but the mining operations on Gorse are far more engaging than I would have initially thought."

Vader strode forward and plucked the pad from his hands, then levitated it back to the shelf. "You look better," he said.

"What a relief," Obi-Wan replied dryly. "Now perhaps you can enlighten me as to why I'm still alive."

Vader sat down on the bed, looking at Obi-Wan very intently. "I could ask you the same question."

Obi-Wan frowned, genuinely taken-aback. "I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"When we were fighting on Mustafar, you could've killed me. I wasn't thinking clearly; at that moment when you pushed me away, you could've just as easily pierced my heart with your lightsaber." His eyes were very blue indeed. "But instead you chose to flee. Why?"

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. "You know the answer already."

There was a surge of emotion in the Force, so intense that it left Obi-Wan reeling, and Vader was suddenly much closer than Obi-Wan was ready to deal with. "Is that why you've hidden from me all these years?" he snarled, yellow seeping into his irises like oil into water. "Is that why you chose your pathetic martyrdom?"

Obi-Wan glared back, unintimidated. "Tell me, Darth: does you Master know that you're keeping me here?"

"It doesn't matter if he does," said Vader, nostrils flaring. "At this point, he's only alive as long as he's of use to me."

"Given the care you've taken to choose such an isolated planet, I don't think you're entirely confident of that."

Vader's gaze was predatory. "It's unwise to underestimate me, Obi-Wan. I've become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

It was the first time Vader had said his name since they'd been reunited, Obi-Wan realized with a jolt. The thought was a sobering one. "Of that, I have no doubt," he said softly, and looked down at his hands.  _But at what cost?_ He didn't add.

"Yes, I suppose you never really did doubt my abilities," said Vader, his voice softening as well. But it was the quiet of a serpent about to strike, the Dark Side still burning in the Force. "Only my judgment." He reached forward with his flesh hand and grasped Obi-Wan's chin, lifting his head in a mockery of tenderness. "You and Padme never really saw me as anything more than a simple-minded child, too powerful for his own good."

Obi-Wan smiled in spite of himself. "Truthfully, we had never really discussed it. But supposing we had such a consensus, would you say that we were wrong?"

"No," said Vader, releasing his chin. "You weren't. But things have changed." He leaned in closer still. "I'm definitely not a child anymore."

That, Obi-Wan couldn't argue with. Vader's face was still smooth and handsome, but he had lost much of his youthful softness. He looked like a man, now – dangerous and beautiful. "You still haven't answered my question," he said.

"Because I don't need to, Obi-Wan: you know the answer already."

And then Vader was kissing him, insistent and hungry, his longing like a burning pillar in the Force. His hands – flesh and synthskin-covered-durasteel – trailed down Obi-Wan's sides, and he used the Force to push Obi-Wan back against the plush pillows behind them.

And Obi-Wan kissed back, because it was everything he had dared not want. Everything he had denied himself, only to fail anyway. He had been alone for so long.

Vader broke the kiss, and brought his flesh hand up to cup the side of Obi-Wan's face. His eyes were even more yellow than before.

"Is this how easily you give up your martyrdom?" he asked. "My hands are dripping in the blood of the Jedi, and yet you're going to let me touch you like this."

"Am I?" said Obi-Wan, not quite sure himself if the question was sincere.

"Yes," said Vader, and kissed him again.

Qui-Gon's words echoed in his mind, even as he allowed the kiss to continue. Even as he reached out to pull Vader closer.

_You must let go of this attachment, Obi-Wan. So long as it persists, you will never be free._

But for now, that was alright. Luke was safe, and some vestige of Anakin still cared for him. For now, he would allow himself this one indulgence.

He was so very tired of being alone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

As he lay in an overly-large bed with Darth Vader's head resting against his chest, Obi-Wan reflected on how his life was, in many ways, quite surreal. Vader, for his part, was gazing up at Obi-Wan's face with half-lidded eyes, bringing to mind a nexu lazing about after gorging itself on fresh meat.

Obi-Wan also couldn't help but reflect on what a failure he was. As a Jedi, and as Anakin Skywalker's Master.

"Ah," said Vader, as he ran his flesh fingers through the hair on Obi-Wan's chest. "And here comes the self-flagellation." He sighed and shifted, straightening his back, and nuzzled into the nape of Obi-Wan's neck. "I know you may find this hard to believe, but you haven't suddenly become responsible for anything I've done just because we fucked." His breath was warm against Obi-Wan's bare skin. "Guilt-by-mutual-orgasm isn't actually a thing."

Obi-Wan chuckled in spite of the knot tightening in his gut. "I see that the Dark Side hasn't diminished your talent for being obnoxious."

He felt Vader's lips curl into a smirk. "I believe that 'charming' is word you're actually looking for."

Obi-Wan very nearly rolled his eyes. "Yes, 'charming' – of course. Pardon my confusion, lord Vader."

Vader leaned up so that his face was level with Obi-Wan's. "You're lucky that I'm so forgiving," he said, and kissed him, slow and languid. He then got off the bed and stood, stretching in an entirely feline manner. Obi-Wan couldn't quite stop his eyes from lingering over the spectacle, or the way his body responded to it.

No doubt sensing it, Vader threw him a glance over his shoulder, his eyes full of promise, before walking to the 'fresher. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried not to think of anything. It was difficult, however, while Vader was so close by, acting for too much like Anakin Skywalker.

In truth, Obi-Wan wasn't sure which would be worse: that Yoda's words were indeed true, and Anakin was dead – consumed by Darth Vader – or that Darth Vader was Anakin in his entirety, not some twisted shadow. That perhaps Anakin had been Vader all along, and there had been no hope of preventing his fall.

"I don't know exactly what it is you're thinking, but it feels much too existential for our current situation."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. "There are actually several cultures in multiple species that believe one can find existential truth through the act of coitus."

Vader was standing over him, still completely naked. "You almost have to admire a philosophy that's so blatantly self-serving," he said, and sat down beside Obi-Wan.

"Certainly, as a Sith, you know nothing of self-serving philosophies," Obi-Wan retorted, as Vader straddled his hips.

Vader smiled crookedly. "That's ironic, coming from a Jedi." Obi-Wan felt the Sith Lord's flesh hand grasping him, guiding him into slick, tight heat, and his eyes fluttered closed again.

" _Force,"_ he said, trying to keep his breathing steady as Vader slid down his length.

Vader leaned in as he began to move, his own breath hitching. "I always knew you'd feel amazing inside of me," he said. "But you were always too afraid to give in. Afraid of your attachments." He ran his lips up the hollow of Obi-Wan's throat. "Afraid of  _passion._ "

"Must you keep talking?" said Obi-Wan, opening his eyes, and slid his arms around Vader's back, pulling him down to kiss him silent.

That was how it went for several minutes, until the heat between them became too much, and Obi-Wan had to break the kiss. It was Vader's eyes that were closed now, his face slack with pleasure – and something else, Obi-Wan thought. " _Anakin,_ " he said, moving his hands to cup Vader's face, running his thumbs along the day-old stubble on his cheeks.

"That name," said Vader, between harsh, uneven breaths, "means nothing to me."

Obi-Wan moved his head gently until their foreheads were touching. Vader's emotions roiled in the Force. "Anakin," he said again. "My beautiful Anakin."

And then Vader was coming, gasping and shivering as he bucked his hips. Obi-Wan felt it through the Force, and followed soon after, never taking his eyes from Vader's face.

Vader didn't move at first, even as Obi-Wan softened inside him, and his eyes were streaked with yellow when they opened. "I should kill you for that," he said softly.

"By all means," said Obi-Wan. "Would you like to throttle me with the Force, or shall I wait for you to retrieve your lightsaber?"

Vader's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, removing himself from Obi-Wan's lap. Standing, he walked to the drawers to retrieve some clothes, set them down at the foot of the bed, and went back to the 'fresher.

Obi-Wan stood as well and, after a moment of consideration, followed him. Vader was already laying in the bathtub, letting the water fill in around him – a habit of Anakin's for as long as Obi-Wan had known him. The sight of it made his chest go tight.

"It wasn't wise to follow me," said Vader, though his tone remained casual. "I really may end up killing you."

Obi-Wan walked over to the basin and dampened a washcloth hanging up beside it, wiping off the drying remnants of their earlier activities. He then walked to the tub and knelt down behind it. "My life is in your hands, Darth," he said.

Vader chuckled without humor. "It's almost like you're mocking me, old man."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Obi-Wan reached forward to lace his fingers into Vader's sweat-soaked hair. "May I?" he asked. There had been a time, when Anakin had been his Padawan, that washing the boy's hair had been useful in keeping his emotions from becoming too erratic, and would help put him in the right state of mind to meditate – an aspect of Jedi life that he'd had trouble adapting to after starting his training so late. Obi-Wan had stopped the ritual when, at around sixteen, Anakin had started to enjoy it a little  _too_ much. But he had regretted the necessity of setting up that boundary. In his solitude on Tatooine, he had realized it was because he had found his own comfort in it.

Comfort was something he needed now, though he knew he didn't deserve it. Indeed, he was so desperate for it that he would even take it on the sufferance of a Sith Lord. From the man who had taken everything from him – and was also all he had left, besides a child that he could only ever watch over from afar.

Vader hesitated for a few seconds, perhaps thinking along the very same lines as him. For a man whose power relied on erratic negative emotions, comfort of any sort was probably something to be avoided. But eventually, he said, "I won't stop you." Obi-Wan's felt a tickle of amusement at the familiar tone of voice; it was the one Anakin had always used when he was embarrassed about something, but trying his best to hide it.

Obi-Wan said nothing more, reaching forward to shut off the water. He then used the Force to draw some water up and into Vader's hair, not even caring that it was a frivolous use of his abilities. There was some cleaning solution on the counter, and Obi-Wan floated it over, pouring a liberal amount into his hand. He worked it into Vader's now-wet hair, massaging it into his scalp until it lathered.

Vader made a groaning sound that was probably not entirely voluntary.

Smiling slightly, Obi-Wan began to run his fingers as gently as he could through the tangles, taking his time about it. In the Force, he could feel that it was indeed having its usual effect.

When he was done, he gathered more water with the Force and carefully rinsed the solution away, working his fingers over Vader's scalp – more lightly than before – to make sure that all of it was gone.

Vader let out a small groan of protest as Obi-Wan started to disengage. Again, Obi-Wan was reminded of a feline. "All done," he said, standing.

Vader looked up at him with half-lidded blue eyes. "Aren't you cold?" he asked.

He  _was_ cold, he suddenly realized. "Enjoy the rest of you bath," he said, deciding that a taking a shower was an excellent idea.

He spent a truly indulgent amount of time under the warm spray. Apparently, he was still not over the novelty of having so much water on-hand to waste. By the time Obi-Wan was done, Vader was already out of the 'fresher.

He emerged into the bedroom with a towel around his waist, discovering that Vader was fully dressed and wearing his mask. "More 'business', then," he said, walking over to the drawers to pull out some clothes for himself.

"As it happens," said Vader, "I'm going to Alderaan to meet with your old friend, Viceroy Organa. He'll no doubt be thrilled to know that I've found you after all these years."

Obi-Wan frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing the clothes beside him. "Are you planning to blackmail him using me as leverage?"

"How perceptive of you," said Vader. "I mean, I would much rather just kill him, but that's not an option at the moment."

"And you're certain he won't simply turn the tables on you?" asked Obi-Wan, keeping his tone mild despite how much Vader's admission had rattled him. Bail was his friend, of course, and the thought of Vader killing him was an unpleasant one indeed. But there was also the matter of Leia to consider, and how the death of her adoptive father would no doubt cause her immense suffering. Obi-Wan vowed that he would do everything in his power to keep that from happening. "What will you do if he threatens to reveal this to your Master?"

"I'll call his bluff, obviously. He cares for you far too much to hand that kind of information over to the Emperor."

Obi-Wan had to concede that Vader was right. "And what is so pressing that you must coerce him in such an underhanded manner?"

"He has ties to various rebel cells operating throughout my empire," said Vader. "I think it's only fitting that I use their traitorous benefactor to rout them out."

Obi-Wan sensed that this was only part of the truth, but concluded that pressing the issue would be a waste of time. "Will you really kill me if he doesn't cooperate?"

"No," said Vader, as if it was obvious. "But I warn you, old man: it's  _his_  life that's forfeit if you betray me, regardless of the inconvenience it may cause."

And there was the real reason Vader had gone into such detail about his "business". Obi-Wan wasn't entirely sure what Vader considered a betrayal in this context, but he now had some idea of what Vader had meant when he'd spoken of "needless suffering". He had not been bluffing, as Obi-Wan had hoped.

"I understand," said Obi-Wan. "I don't suppose you can send him my regards?"

"I'll see what I can do," Vader replied, and Obi-Wan couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

"Well then," he said. "Farewell, I suppose."

Vader didn't reply as he descended the staircase, leaving Obi-Wan alone with his thoughts.

And Obi-Wan found that he suddenly wanted something alcoholic to drink.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is considerably more explicit that the previous one. Just a heads up.

In truth, there had been no plan of action for when he finally found Kenobi.

The burning need to track Kenobi down, to  _dominate_ him, had superseded any questions of what would happen next. It had been on impulse that he'd decided to take the former Jedi Master to his second, unofficial home, not trusting Bast Castle to be secure enough from his master. In hindsight, he wondered if perhaps he'd built the place – using his own, hand-modified droids – in preparation for finding his one-time friend.

He had also decided on impulse to leave Kenobi alone there for a couple of weeks so that he could stew, giving him time to realize the full extent of his new situation. But the wait had become unbearable after only a couple of says. Vader hadn't been able to think of anything but Kenobi, trembling under his touch, gasping out his name, and had started to become annoyed when his subordinates interrupted his daydreams. At least one had almost died as a result.

Given the delicacy of his current position, he couldn't afford such distractions. So he had returned to his little getaway and taken what had always been his. It had been one of the most singularly satisfying experiences of his life, to watch as Kenobi's Jedi sanctimony fell to pieces because of his attachment to Anakin Skywalker.

Of course, Vader wouldn't deny that he reciprocated the attachment. He knew that his obsession with finding his former Master was a testament to the bond that the had once shared. But unlike the Jedi, he understood that there was strength to be found in one's attachments. Indeed, for all those years, hatred for Kenobi had been a source of strength and focus. Hatred born from Kenobi turning against him, and convincing Padme to do the same. For sparing him, only to abandon him.

And that hatred still burned as strongly as ever. But it wasn't hatred alone, he now knew; it was so much more.

He let out a harsh breath, remembering the feel of Obi-Wan inside him. (The feel of Obi-Wan's fingers running over his scalp, touching him with a tenderness he hadn't experienced in nearly a decade, and bringing forth memories of another life best left forgotten.) He had thought himself satisfied in the immediate aftermath, capable of setting thoughts of the damn Jedi aside for at least a time.

He had, perhaps, been a little hasty in that assessment.

There was anger along with the frustration – fueled by the absurdity of having to hide his conquest of Kenobi from his Master – which would be useful to him. Though not for the purpose he secretly wished to use it for.

He knew he was powerful enough to defeat Sidious, but the time was not yet right to make such a drastic move. Besides certain practical considerations, Vader still had much to learn about the Dark Side and the Sith arts from the old man. If not for that, he could have Kenobi with him right now. Vader hadn't spent nearly a decade tracking the man down just so that he could allow Sidious to dictate whether or not Kenobi would accompany him on his missions.

He closed his eyes and imagined Kenobi struggling to maintain his composure as Vader took him into his mouth. It was a familiar fantasy, and his mind was eager to fill in the concrete details he'd finally learned. Like the sound Kenobi made when he was coming. Or how there was a little while, right afterward, when Kenobi's sadness wasn't completely suffocating. When he looked at Vader the way he used to look at Anakin, his eyes twinkling with affection.

He didn't let it move beyond his mind though, allowing the desire to become frustration, and the frustration to morph into anger. This in turn gave him focus. He had an empire to build, after all; planets that needed to be brought in line, Moffs that needed humbling, and plots that needed to be foiled. There were still Jedi in need of killing, along with Dathomiri witches and other rogue Force users. If he wanted to make his fantasies into a reality anytime soon, he would have to be efficient.

Which meant that he had to be ruthless.

Of course, Vader knew full well the danger that Kenobi posed to his vision of a new world order. He knew that he would likely have to kill him eventually, if he wanted to see that vision realized.

But not just yet, he told himself. Perhaps not even for a few more years, assuming he couldn't manage to turn Kenobi to the Dark Side before such drastic measures were necessary. There was a certain appeal to the thought of Kenobi being the one to become his apprentice; a fitting reversal, indeed.

But no – Vader knew there was very little chance of Kenobi ever turning his back on his identity as a Jedi. Vader could sense very little in the way of anger or hatred in his former master. Instead, there was just that pall of sadness hanging about him. Sadness, and resignation. Neither of which were especially useful for fueling the Dark Side. With time and patience, he might be able to change that, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.

Besides, he had already decided that he would reclaim the apprentice that the Jedi Council had stolen from him, once he finally managed to track her down.

At that thought he smiled to himself. With just a little bit of patience, he would soon reclaim everything that had been stolen from him. Or at least, everything that remained. And then there was nothing in the universe that would be able to stand in his way.

Not even Obi-Wan Kenobi.

* * *

 

At first, Vader's interest in Organa had started as a sort of revenge. The man had been on the periphery of Skywalker's life for the entirety of the Clone Wars, like a blood-sucking insect, draining away precious minutes of Skywalker's time with Padme and Kenobi. Gaining their trust, if not their love, in a way that Skywalker never had.

So Vader had resolved to do the same to Organa, seeking out the company of Organa's beloved daughter, much to the Viceroy's obvious discomfort. But the Princess was no ordinary child: willful and brilliant, with a mind like a lightsaber. Vader had found himself growing genuinely fond of her, even knowing that they would likely be enemies in the future.

In his defense, Leia was absolutely adorable. Her father's frustration at their relationship was really more of a bonus. But he kept close tabs on the Princess – for his own piece of mind, mostly – and knew Leia wasn't there right now. Instead, she was off on some humanitarian mission to Ryloth.

This visit was strictly for her traitorous father.

He hadn't informed the Viceroy of his imminent arrival. He never did, because it gave Organa time to prepare in any number of ways. It was only as he was walking up the path to the Aldera palace that he took out his comm. He was greeted with the holographic image of one of the palace attendants. "Inform Viceroy Organa that I wish to have a private audience with him."

The attendant looked as if she wanted to protest, but managed to restrain herself. "Yes, Lord Vader," she said, bowing her head.

"Don't make me wait," he said, and shut off the comm abruptly.

The same attendant was waiting for him in the palace's courtyard, her face betraying none of the anxiety Vader could sense radiating from her. An admirable skill, if useless against somebody powerful in the Force. "Please follow me, my lord," she said, bowing once more, then turned abruptly without saying anything more. The attendants on Alderaan had learned years ago that Vader had no patience for small talk.

She lead him to a small, private room toward the center of the compound, opened the door, and bowed one final time before departing. Organa was inside, seated at a transparisteel table with a decanter of wine placed in front of him. There was a full glass in his hand.

It wasn't a meeting with a politician if there wasn't alcohol involved, Vader supposed.

"Lord Vader," said Organa, inclining his head. "Please – have a seat."

Vader sat down. "Let's skip the pleasantries, Viceroy. I have more important matters to attend to."

"Of course, my lord."

Vader made a sour expression under the mask. "I'll make this quick: I found Kenobi alive on Tatooine. He is my hostage. If you don't do as I say, he dies."

There was a brief flash of distress in Organa's eyes, but it was gone in a moment. In the Force, as well, he seemed remarkably composed. "I don't believe you," he said.

"Kenobi is alive," said Vader, trying to dig deeper into Organa's mind. But all he got for his efforts were meaningless surface thoughts about his schedule and the health of his wife. "And he is in my custody."

Organa smiled slightly. "Oh, I believe that part. It's just that I'm calling your bluff, Lord Vader."

"My bluff, Viceroy?"

"Yes," said Organa, putting down his glass in order to steeple his hands. "Because I don't believe that you'll kill Obi-Wan."

"And what makes you certain of that?" asked Vader, reminding himself that there would come a day when he would kill this man.

At that, Bail actually started to chuckle, putting a hand to his forehead. After a few moments of this, he sighed, all traces of humor leaving him. "I might've believed you could do it a few years ago, but things have changed. You can't bring yourself kill him any more than I could." Organa rose and gave him a bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I also have some pressing matters to attend to. Please send Obi-Wan my regards."

Vader allowed Organa to leave, and didn't move himself until he felt the man's presence move a considerable distance away. Vader didn't want to run into him again before he left, lest he give in to the impulse to crush his throat.

He seethed for the entirety of the journey back. He couldn't allow Organa to be so arrogant without it having consequences, and he would lose all credibility in the politician's eyes if he didn't make good on his threat.

Kenobi needed to die, of course. At this point, it was only a question of when. So why  _not_ now? Why let the Jedi Master live, knowing how cunning and faithless he was?

Vader meditated on all the ways Kenobi had betrayed him, humiliated him, and felt his anger and hatred grow. This attachment was a source of power, it was true, but Kenobi need not be alive for that. Vader could find sex elsewhere, if he ever really wanted it again.

He could find everything that Kenobi gave him elsewhere.

* * *

 

Kenobi was in the living room when Vader entered the house, sitting on the sofa while reading a datapad. Without saying a word, Vader raised his hand, flinging the datapad across the room, and lifted Kenobi up into the air, pinning him against the wall next to the worktable. Then, he activated his lightsaber.

"Today is the day you die, Jedi," he said. It was only in hearing his own voice that he realized he'd forgotten to put on his mask.

Kenobi responded by raising a single brow. And indeed, there was no indication in the Force that he was bothered at all by the display of power – or the threat behind it. "I know you have a penchant for theatrics, Darth, but the only people here are the two of us. Is all this fuss really necessary?"

Even through his rage, Vader had to marvel at how Kenobi could somehow make him feel like he was still a thoughtless child. "Would you really be satisfied with a humble death, old man?"

He smiled crookedly at that. "I won't have the capacity to feel any sort of emotion. An inescapable consequence of being dead – or so I've heard."

Kenobi, unable to feel anything ever again. Unable to laugh, or smile, or frown, or tease, or be a smug, sanctimonious Jedi. Just dust, scattered into an unfeeling universe. The thought of it dimmed Vader's rage from an inferno to a low-burning flame. He laughed bitterly, deactivating his lightsaber. "I really should kill you," he said. "I know you're going to betray me, and that you'll do everything in your power to destroy the Empire that I'm trying to build."

"I won't insult your intelligence by denying it," said Obi-Wan, evenly.

Vader walked forward, but didn't relinquish his hold on Kenobi in the Force. He looked up into the other man's eyes, and felt desire prickling over his skin. "But you know what? I'm not a martyr. I now have the kind of power where I can afford to leave people like you alive, if it pleases me to do so." He smirked. "I guess you could say that I have the luxury of being inefficient."

Kenobi met his gaze without any outward change, but Vader could sense his growing unease. He felt a thrill of triumph and arousal. "You really do see the universe as a machine in need of repairs, don't you," said Kenobi, sounding very much like he was making a detached observation. But the Force continued to tell Vader a very different story.

"I see the universe as it truly is," said Vader, coming to a stop mere inches away from the older man. "Just as I see  _you_  as you truly are."

"And what is it that I truly am, Darth?"

"Mine," he said softly, an entirely different kind of warmth mingling with his desire. He reached forward to undo the ties on Kenobi's trousers.

Kenobi let out a harsh breath. "Are you going to let me down?" he asked.

Vader tugged the trousers down, revealing that Kenobi wasn't wearing any underclothes. "That depends on whether or not you want me to stop," he said. He wasn't going to let Kenobi pretend like he was some distressed damsel in a bad holonovella.

The chuckle he received sounded rather strained. "And to think: you were planning to kill me only minutes ago."

Vader removed the glove from his flesh hand and ran his fingers over Kenobi's length, watching with satisfaction as it hardened. "Weren't you the one who taught me that it's always a good idea to keep your enemies off-balance?" he said.

"Is that what we are?"

"Of course," said Vader, sliding a teasing thumb up the prominent vein on the underside of Kenobi's now fully-erect cock. "You know, Twi'leks refer to orgasms as the 'little death'. So, I guess I do still plan to kill you -" He rubbed the thumb around the tip, smearing the precome that had collected there. "-from a certain point of view."

Kenobi said nothing, and Vader looked up to see that his eyes were closed, his head flat against the wall. "So I take it this means you don't want me to stop," he said.

"No," said Kenobi, swallowing. "I don't."

Vader considered those three little words a victory. Kenobi had given in already, as Vader had known he would, but he'd yet to admit as much out loud. Vader wanted more than passive acquiescence, if this was going to continue. He wanted Kenobi to give himself over completely.

Saying nothing more, he lowered his mouth to the head of Kenobi's erection, suckling gently. Kenobi let out a low moan in response, which went straight to Vader's cock. Encouraged, Vader took more into his mouth, bobbing up and down.

"Anakin..." Now, that was familiar. Breathless though it was, Vader recognized it from countless discussions. It was what Kenobi often resorted to when he had something he wanted to say, but wasn't sure how to go about saying it.

It wasn't a reminder he particularly wanted right now, but the damage was done. He pulled his mouth away from Kenobi's erection and frowned. Did he bother reprimanding the man for using that name? Likely, it would only give him an incentive to use it more. So he settled on: "What is it?"

"Let me down," he said.

Vader couldn't help the curl of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. "Let me down" meant "I want you to stop". But he had no intention of continuing this if Kenobi wasn't a willing participant. Resisting the admittedly petty urge to just let the man fall to the ground, he eased his hold in the Force and set Kenobi down on his feet.

He was about to say something, but Kenobi surged forward to kiss him, cutting him off. Vader melted into it instantly, sliding his hands into Kenobi's hair. Kenobi did the same, massaging his scalp, and Vader marveled for the umpteenth time how good he was at this. He knew for a fact that Kenobi had kissed very few people over the course of his life.

After a few glorious moments, Kenobi broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and pressed their foreheads together. "If you'll pardon me – it's not that it was unpleasant, but I was getting tired of being stuck to a wall." He ran his thumbs over Vader's temples. "I would rather like to reciprocate, in fact. Is that acceptable?"

Vader shivered despite how hot his clothing suddenly seemed. As much as he liked the idea of Kenobi surrendering to his attentions, reciprocation wasn't at all unappealing. "If you insist, old man."

Kenobi chuckled at that. "I would never dare, lord Vader." As always, the use of the honorific was facetious. Though this time it was more teasing than mocking. Then, with surprising tenderness, he said, "Come to bed."

Any annoyance Vader felt at the lack of respect was superseded by the way that simple phrase made his stomach flutter. He quashed his instinctive shame at the feeling, reminding himself once more that it was just Jedi conditioning. He was allowed to want things, now.

He was allowed to want  _thi_ _s._

He pulled away from Kenobi and walked to the stairs, knowing that he would be followed, and grabbed Obi-Wan when he reached the top of the stairs, kissing him hard. "I want to fuck you," he said, when he broke the kiss, feeling Kenobi's arousal surge in the Force.

"Very well," said Kenobi, and Vader could see how dilated his pupils were.

"Lie down on the bed. I'll be back in a moment."

Vader was struck by a very appealing thought as he walked to the 'fresher to get a tube of lubricant. (He had considered using the Force to retrieve it, but the image it conjured was so absurd that he decided against it.) Kenobi had likely never done this before, so why not give him a little insight into why people did? There was also the bonus of offending Kenobi's Jedi sensibilities by using the Force in such a "frivolous" way. "Tell me if you want me to stop, old man," he called out, opening a drawer.

"Stop wha-" A spark of pleasure, and then: "Oh,  _Force._ " When no objection was forthcoming, Vader pulled out the desired object and made his way back to the bedroom. He was greeted by the rather breathtaking sight of Kenobi, sprawled out on his bed, naked and shivering with pleasure.

Vader's smirk widened into a grin. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked, knowing that he'd get no response – not even the usual look of exasperation. Indeed, Kenobi only managed to release an audible, very shaky breath.

It felt like every cell in Vader's body was throbbing with need, but he wouldn't allow himself to rush this. Even more than their first time together, Vader senses that this time would be game-changing. That this would be when Kenobi really, truly gave in. Tossing the tube onto the bed, he turned away from Kenobi to strip out of his clothes, feeling Kenobi's gaze intent on his back as his pleasure pulsed through the Force.

The cool air of the room felt good on his overheated skin, his erection twitching almost comically with its new-found freedom. He reminded himself that he wasn't an excitable teenager losing his virginity for the first time.

But...before that first time with Kenobi, it had been years since he'd so much as touched another being, let alone so intimately. In a way, he supposed it was a little like being a virgin again.

He shivered as an intense wave of pleasure radiated through the Force, with Kenobi making some very interesting gasping sounds. Vader turned to him and crawled onto the bed. "Is this your first time?" he asked, running his flesh hand up one of Kenobi's twitching thighs.

"I...suppose it is..." said Kenobi breathlessly.

Vader used his synthskin-covered hand to pick up the tube of lubricant and flipped open the cap, reluctantly pulling his flesh hand away from Kenobi's skin to pour a liberal amount into his palm. "This will be easier for now if you get on your hands and knees," he said.

"If you...say so," replied Kenobi, shakily maneuvering himself into the suggested position.

Vader took a moment to appreciate the new view before he scooted in closer, coating his fingers with the slippery gel. "Relax, and tell me if it hurts." He'd probably be able to sense any discomfort if Kenobi didn't tell him, but he wanted to make sure. Gingerly, he rubbed the tip of his index finger around the puckered skin of Kenobi's entrance, then worked the finger in with deliberate care. He kept going until he could feel the spot inside that he was massaging with the Force, and ran the finger over it as well.

The harsh intake of breath he received in response was immensely satisfying.

Vader continued to prep him, adding two fingers, then three, careful to get him as slick and loose as possible. Kenobi continued to twitch and gasp in response, and even let out the occasional moan. Vader's erection was drenched in precome by the time he was done.

"That should do it," he said, removing his fingers. "Turn over."

Kenobi did so without comment – such an obedient little Jedi – and spread his legs for Vader without even having to be asked.

It was with shaking hands that Vader applied lubricant to his cock, guiding it ever-so-slowly into Kenobi's body, savoring the feel of slick flesh engulfing him. Once he was fully inside, he stopped applying pressure with the Force, and leaned forward to kiss Kenobi, slow and tender.

This had been a long-time fantasy, too. Not intruding upon his thoughts as often the one with their positions reversed ( _Force, but Obi-Wan had_ _felt_ _good inside of him_ ), or the one where Kenobi lost his composure as Anakin sucked and licked his cock ( _his_ _m_ _aster had tasted so good, just as he'd known he would_ ). But it was hardly unpleasant, imagining Kenobi relinquishing enough control to let himself be fucked.

Sensing that Kenobi was in no discomfort, he began to move with slow, deliberate thrusts, and was rewarded with Kenobi intensifying the kiss. Vader moaned into it, reveling in how amazing Kenobi felt around him.

Kenobi slid his hands up Vader's back and into his hair, running nimble fingers over his scalp, using his thumbs to tease the tips of his ears. Reaching all the most sensitive spots as if he'd never forgotten where they were. He then broke the kiss and brought their foreheads together, looking up into Vader's eyes. "Anakin," he said.

Vader actually shuddered in response, thrusting in deeper and harder. But Obi-Wan's finger remained gentle and attentive. "My Anakin," he said again, eyes closing after a particularly intense thrust. "It's alright. Everything's going to be alright."

It was a lie, Vader knew, but it still felt like forgiveness. And he would allow himself to believe it for a little while, because it felt so good to pretend. He would be Anakin in this moment. Anakin, who was finally making love to his Master. A Master who still thought he was a good man, and who hadn't hidden from him in despair, and who wasn't broken. He was Anakin, and Padme was still alive, and had never looked at him like he was a stranger – like he was a monster. He was Anakin, and he hadn't hurt the only people that in the Galaxy that mattered.

In the Force, he could feel Obi-Wan's affection for him, and how good this was making him feel. He wanted to be wrapped up in those feelings forever, warm and safe and – above all – loved. He had made himself forget what it was like to feel loved.

He'd made himself forget a lot of things.

"That's it, my Anakin – let it go. Just let it all go."

"Master," he gasped out, thrusting as deep into Obi-Wan as he could, as wave after wave of bliss coursed through him. He collapsed forward when it was over, feeling slickness on his abdomen and chest from something other than sweat.

There was also wetness on his face from something other than sweat, but of an entirely different sort. And Obi-Wan was still stroking his hair with one hand, his other curled around the small of Vader's back, holding their bodies flush together. Inside of Obi-Wan he was soft and sensitive, but he didn't care.

"Damn you, old man," he said, as more humiliating tears leaked out of his eyes. He could feel Kenobi's sadness seeping back into the Force, like a bitter aftertaste. But he didn't move in spite of his words, because Kenobi's hand felt good in his hair.

"Shall we go wash up?" asked Kenobi. "This will likely become less than comfortable very soon."

It was a good point, and Vader noted the "we". So it was with only mild reluctance that he rolled off of the Jedi, stumbling off the bed and to the 'fresher. He didn't want to talk when he was off-balance like this, so he kept silent, turning on the shower's spray and steeping in. He rested his head against the transparisteel wall of the shower and just let the water fall against his back.

Kenobi was there within a few moments, but Vader didn't move. He didn't want Kenobi to see his face.

But Kenobi said nothing, and made no attempt to move him. From what Vader could tell, he just got down to cleaning himself.

Or at least, that was all he did for a few minutes.

Vader almost shuddered when he felt Kenobi's hands on his shoulders, kneading gently into the muscles there. The Jedi then slid those hands down the length of Vader's arms, up again, and down his back, until they finally curled around his middle in an embrace, the length of Kenobi's body pressing flush against the back of his. Kenobi skimmed his lips over Vader's right shoulder, nuzzled into his nape, and kissed his way up Vader's neck until his mouth was right by his ear. "Anakin," he breathed, and he was close enough that he didn't need to raise his voice to be heard over the shower's spray. Vader could feel Kenobi hardening against his ass.

This time, he really did shudder. On impulse, he shut off the faucet with the Force. "I want you inside me," he murmured, shuddering again as Kenobi's hands slid down the top of his thighs.

"Yes," said Kenobi. "Yes, whatever you want. Just...show me how to make you ready."

He was suddenly very glad for the tube of lubricant he kept in the shower, because he wasn't sure he could focus enough to go get the tube still on the bed. Let alone summon it with the Force. He didn't have the patience to give Kenobi much of a demonstration, though. He slicked himself quickly and without fuss, managing despite the fact that his hands were shaking.

He couldn't remember the last time he wanted something this much. He was  _burning_ with it.

"Fuck me," he said, not even trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Master, please."

And then Obi-Wan was filling him up, right to the hilt, and it felt so good that he started crying again. Each thrust was like a jolt going through his whole body, made all the more intense by Obi-Wan's hands trailing over his stomach, over his thighs, brushing teasingly past his cock.

How many times had he wanted this? When Obi-Wan had been by his side, and they'd both been too mired in Jedi propriety. When Obi-Wan had been hiding from him, and he'd dreamed of this, waking up hard and wanting and so lonely he could barely stand it. On the way back from Mortis, still shaken by watching Ahsoka die. After Obi-Wan had faked his death and worn another face, in order to remind himself that his master was still there, and to remind Obi-Wan who it was he belonged to. After Ahsoka had left, when he and Obi-Wan were out on missions together, and he'd needed something to distract him from the pain of missing her. Before Obi-Wan had left on his assignment to track down Grievous, when he'd felt how inexorably both Padme and Obi-Wan were slipping away from him. Known, but not allowed himself to acknowledge, that things would be different by the time Obi-Wan returned.

And countless other times, he thought, almost always held back by his own fear. Rebuffed by Obi-Wan the few times he'd managed to overcome it.

But not now. He was powerful, now, and his fear no longer controlled him. And yes, he had made so many sacrifices to achieve that power – terrible, unforgivable sacrifices. But he did have this. Even after everything, he did, at least, have this.

"Please," he said, though he didn't even know what he was asking for. "Please," he said again, more breathlessly, as Obi-Wan's hand wrapped around his cock.

"Anything," said his master, mouthing Vader's shoulder as he thrust hard and deep into him. His grip on Vader's cock was loose, distracted, but that was all it took to push him over the edge. It was even more intense than before, elevated by the feeling Obi-Wan filling him up with warm wetness, shuddering against his back. Vader wasn't even sure where his pleasure ended and Obi-Wan's began.

But even so, it was over too soon. It was only through biting his bottom lip that he managed stop himself from asking Kenobi not to pull away.

But Kenobi did pull away, switching the spray back on, and washed himself again: quickly and efficiently, like a good Jedi. He then left the shower without saying another word.

Vader was left with his head still pressed against the transparisteel and tears still sliding down his face. The water was too hot, but he didn't care. It was with some effort that he forced himself to move, to grab the soap and wash himself, but he managed it. He felt wrung-out and raw, and he wasn't sure if it was because of what he'd just done with Kenobi, or because he hadn't done it  _enough_. Because, even now, he still  _wanted._ It was reminiscent of how Skywalker had often felt, being apart from his wife.

He had to face up to the possibility that he had been deceiving himself about the nature of his feelings for the Jedi Master, which – if true – would put him in a much more defensive position. Treachery and deception were critical tools for a Sith, but the one person a Sith should never lie to was himself.

Vader had mastered himself by the time he exited the 'fresher, and Kenobi had gotten dressed in the meantime. It looked as if he was just about to leave.

"Going somewhere?" asked Vader, walking over to retrieve some clean clothes for himself. Loose-fitting, comfortable casual-wear, since he could hold off contacting Sidious for another day or so.

"The dojo," said Kenobi.

Vader raised an eyebrow. "I can spar with you, if you like. I remember you mentioned being out-of-practice." Indeed, sparring with Kenobi was a very appealing idea – for many reasons.

"Thank you for the offer, but I actually wish to meditate."

Vader snorted. "And here I thought you'd maybe want a break from that after all these years."

"Apparently not," said Kenobi dryly, moving towards the stairs.

Vader got the message: Kenobi wanted space. "Good luck purging all of your pesky emotions, then."

"I will do my best, Lord Vader," said Kenobi, bowing his head in mock gratitude. A moment later, he disappeared down the stairs.

Vader was left alone to dwell on how much he didn't want to be alone, and how he would probably never be able to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for heavily implied suicidal thoughts.

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the padded floor of the dojo, trying to clear his mind of distractions in order to meditate properly. Contrary to what Anakin had once believed, meditation had not always come easily to him. It was only in his early twenties that the exercise had started to feel natural, or even particularly helpful, which was why he'd tried to find ways of easing Anakin's own difficulties. For a long time, he'd preferred a nice stiff drink to meditation when he was feeling particularly overwrought.

Over the years on Tatooine, however, he had come to appreciate the solace one could find in meditation more than ever before. It was a retreat from his solitude, into the infinite expanse of the Force. And sometimes, into the company of his master.

But it was difficult to find the right state of mind with Vader so near, his presence in the Force like black tendrils tickling at the edges of Obi-Wan's perception. It was likely a twisted extension of Vader's obvious longing for closeness, but that only made it all the more distracting. Because along with the usual undercurrents of the Dark Side – anger, hatred, greed – there was also a depth of affection Obi-Wan wasn't certain he knew how to process.

He had been prepared for Vader anger; he had been prepared for Vader's hatred. But he had not been prepared for Vader's  _love_.

It contradicted everything he had ever been taught about the Sith, and everything that he had made himself believe after Anakin's fall.

Because he knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Vader and Anakin were one and the same. The separation he'd created in his mind had been nothing more than an imperfect method of coping with the reality that the boy he'd trained had the capacity to be Vader all along. And that he'd failed to realize it before it was too late.

It made him wonder just how much he could trust the assumptions he'd taken for granted about the nature of the Dark Side. Certainly, it changed those who used it. But how much did it change them? He remembered that Asajj Ventress – a war criminal in her own right, and callous on the best of days – had not been some mindless monster incapable of empathy or compassion. She had been able to set aside her hatred for him when they were both in danger from Maul, after all. She had even helped to save Ahsoka's life out of what appeared to be pure sentiment born of shared experiences – or so Anakin had made it seem, when he had later shared the details of his encounter with the woman.

The Dark Side, he was starting to believe, relied in part, or perhaps even entirely, on an individual's innate capacity for darkness. He had simply not wished to acknowledge that Anakin's capacity was so great.

But however much it hurt to accept this truth, it provided him with a vital piece of insight: he  _knew_ Anakin Skywalker, better than anyone else in the galaxy. Better even, in some ways, than Anakin had known himself.

And thus, he also knew Darth Vader. He knew of his desire for control, his thirst for order, his need for authority and respect. But he also knew of his desperation for intimacy, and how – ultimately – he was more loyal to people than ideas. He had known of these traits in Anakin Skywalker, but had thought it his duty not to encourage any of them. Attachment, he had believed, was Anakin's greatest weakness.

But the damage was already done now; Anakin was a Sith Lord who had committed countless atrocities. And if there was a way to influence Vader now, it was  _through_ his attachments. Obi-Wan doubted that he would ever be able to turn Vader away from the Dark Side, but that didn't mean he couldn't turn the man's loyalties.

Even failing that, Obi-Wan was in a unique position to monitor Vader's activities – though admittedly in a limited capacity – and to a lesser extent the Emperor's. He was also going to have a much easier time protecting Luke and Leia from discovery, using  _himself_  as a distraction.

And when Vader was away on his "business", Obi-Wan would still have plenty of time to communicate with Qui-Gon. Which brought him to the largest flaw in his plan:

The matter of his own attachment, and how it would interfere with retaining his consciousness in the Cosmic Force after the death of his physical body. Now would have been an excellent time for some input from Qui-Gon about that, as a matter of fact.

As if on cue, music began blaring from the living room.

Sighing, Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet and padded out of the dojo. Vader was at the work table, welding some parts together as heavily synthesized music pounded from speakers that must have been embedded in the walls. Obi-Wan felt the beginnings of a headache coming on.

"A little loud, isn't it? I don't believe that the Force protects your ears from nerve damage, though I could be mistaken."

Vader set down his tool and turned to face him, smirking. He waved a hand and the music stopped. "Just wanted to see how the meditation was going, old man," he said. "If you were doing it right, the music shouldn't have bothered you."

Obi-Wan walked over to one of the sofas and sat down, rubbing his temples in a circular motion. "It turns out that having such a strong presence of the Dark Side nearby is quite a distraction."

"Poor Jedi," said Vader. "All those pent-up emotions, making you feel things. It must be unbearable for you."

Obi-Wan didn't deign to respond to Vader's mockery, though it was more due to the growing pounding in his head than anything. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the edge of the sofa and took a deep breath.

A few minutes later, he felt a cup being pressed into his hand. "Drink this," said Vader. "You're probably dehydrated."

Obi-Wan accepted the proffered drink gratefully, wondering when exactly it was he had last had some water. Then, after he'd downed the entire cup, his stomach made a rather interesting noise.

Vader frowned. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Obi-Wan sat the cup down on the table in front of him, then stroked his beard in thought. "You know, I don't actually recall."

Vader sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. "Just...wait here," he commanded, picking up the cup and making his way back to the kitchen.

Obi-Wan complied, if only out of a lack of anything else to do. Vader was back about ten minutes later with a tray, setting it down in front of Obi-Wan. It boasted a heated meal pack of nerf stew and rice, an unfamiliar fruit sliced into wedges on a plate, eating utensils, and another full cup of water.

"Eat," said Vader, sitting down beside him with a sour expression on his face.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "I must admit: I never expected to see a Sith Lord playing nursemaid."

"I'm not going to let you starve yourself, old man," said Vader, rolling his eyes again. "So just...eat."

Obi-Wan wasn't exactly going to argue, given how hungry he suddenly realized he was, so eat he did. The food was good enough, he supposed, though he probably couldn't have appreciated the taste even if it had been haute cuisine. Vader didn't move, apparently intent on making sure that Obi-Wan finished everything.

When Obi-Wan had drained the last drops of water from his cup, he had to admit that he felt much better. "Thank you," he said, once again struck by the absurdity of the fact that Vader had been quite intent on killing him not too long before.

Of course, his former apprentice had been mercurial since the very first day they'd met, but this was on another level than anything he'd experienced from Anakin. Or perhaps Vader had come to his own realizations over the course of their time together. Maybe there was indeed some truth to the belief that intercourse could lead to greater insight, he thought sardonically.

There were a few moments of pregnant silence between them, where Vader just looked at Obi-Wan as if he smelled very bad. Eventually he said, "Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach." Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up, and Vader made a derisive sound. "Get your mind out of the gutter, old man. I just..." He sighed. "This has been difficult for you, and I can feel how tense you are. So...let me help."

He wanted to give him a back rub, Obi-Wan realized, a lump forming in his throat. It had been a frequent enough offer from Anakin, after particularly stressful missions during the Clone Wars. An offer that Obi-Wan had always declined. Because he had understood what the gesture had meant to Anakin, and had worried that it would test his own resolve to keep some measure of distance between them. He had known that he could never accept, because he would have liked nothing more than Anakin's hands on his bare skin.

But now, everything was different. "I was under the impression that you  _wished_  to cause me difficulty."

"Yeah, well – your constant self-pity party is starting to get tiresome," said Vader, reaching forward to pick up the tray. It was the closest thing to an apology he would likely ever get from the man, Obi-Wan mused.

He removed his tunic and lay face-down on the sofa, folding his arms as a make-shift headrest, as Vader took the tray to the kitchen. Vader was back in a hurry, not quite able to mask his eagerness in the Force, and straddled the back of his thighs.

He started by skimming his fingertips lightly over the exposed skin, perhaps to get a feel for where he should focus his efforts, then began to knead into the muscles of Obi-Wan's shoulders with his thumbs. Vader's hands were warm and strong and achingly familiar, and Obi-Wan released an involuntary sound that was somewhere between a groan and a grunt. Vader's touch gentled in response; the little discomfort there had been melted into into pure relief.

Perhaps this was something he needed after all.

Vader worked his way down Obi-Wan's back, loosening knots that had been in place for what Obi-Wan suspected was a very long time. Idly, he wondered how the Sith Lord had learned to be so good at this. During his time with Padme, perhaps, or when he was a young boy, trying to help his mother unwind after a long day of forced labor. As he gave in to the relaxation spreading throughout his body, he drifted into a hazy stupor that was not-quite meditation and not-quite sleep.

His focus was reestablished, however, when Vader leaned down to kiss the base of neck, and he felt conspicuous hardness where Vader was straddling him. "What was that you said about keeping my mind out of the gutter?" asked Obi-Wan sleepily.

Vader trailed his lips over the skin of Obi-Wan's right shoulder, doing the same with flesh fingers on his left. "You look so good like this," he murmured, his desire pulsing in the Force.

It wasn't desire Obi-Wan felt in return – or at least, not lustful desire. He was not of an age where he could recover his drive so quickly after what they'd done not so long ago. But he wanted to touch him, all the same. It was similar to the impulse that had made him wash the younger man's hair.

"I can do something about that if you let me up," he said, now more awake, and felt Vader's breath stutter against his shoulder. His weight was gone a moment later.

Vader was standing by the time Obi-Wan was upright, looking down at him with pupils blown wide. Obi-Wan wondered if he should thank him again, since the massage had indeed been very nice, but decided it wasn't necessary in light of what he was about to do. "Have a seat," he said, which Vader did immediately. The man didn't have trouble following orders in this context, it seemed.

Kneeling between Vader's legs, he was amused by the thought of Sidious having to deal with that particular aspect of Anakin's personality. He filed that away as something to ask about another time as he undid the ties of Vader's trousers, opening the flap in the front to pull out his erection.

"You look even better like this," said Vader softly, his erection twitching in Obi-Wan's hands. There was lust in those words, yes, but also something else. And as Obi-Wan looked up into the Sith Lord's clear blue eyes, he saw Anakin Skywalker. Even twisted by the Dark Side, with the darkness of his presence permeating Obi-Wan's senses, and even after every atrocity he'd committed, he was still Anakin Skywalker.

And Obi-Wan loved him. He could admit that, now, if only to himself.

He loved him, and he wanted to make him feel good. Not because of some high-minded scheme, or for the good of the Galaxy, but simply for its own sake. That too he could admit to himself.

In truth, he had never performed fellatio before. His sexual encounters prior to his exile had been perfunctory, for the most part, and the ones with men had consisted of nothing but hands. But it seemed straight-forward enough, when all was said and done. He leaned in and took as much of straining flesh into his mouth as he could manage, minding his teeth, and stimulated the underside with his tongue. His hands were left idle, so he curled his right hand around the base of Vader's erection, and cupped his testicles with the left, massaging them gently. He then began to move his mouth up and down, up and down, his pace slow and deliberate, moving his hand in counterpoint.

He wouldn't have needed the Force to tell him he was doing something right, with the noises Vader was making. But he could sense Vader's pleasure building steadily just the same. The Sith Lord slipped his hands into Obi-Wan's hair, and Obi-Wan could feel his gaze, unwavering and intent.

"Force, you're beautiful," he said, practically petting Obi-Wan's hair, and chuckled breathlessly. "You shouldn't be, after living in that gods-forsaken desert for all these years. But you are." He let out a particularly load moan as Obi-Wan picked up his pace, which Obi-Wan mostly did so that he could stop Vader from saying anything else.

His strategy was only partially effective, in that Vader resorted to phrases instead of sentences. "My Jedi," he said, grip tightening. "My master." A shuddering intake of breath. "Mine. Always mine."

Obi-Wan could feel Vader's pleasure peaking in the Force, the hands in his hair tightening even further, and he paid special attention the tip of Vader's erection with his tongue. He increased his suction going down as well, skimming his teeth along the heated flesh experimentally.

This was what sent Vader over the edge, thrusting up into Obi-Wan's mouth, chanting his name like a mantra. Obi-Wan shuddered from the intensity of Vader's pleasure as he swallowed his come, even as his scalp stung from how hard Vader was pulling on his hair.

Obi-Wan pulled away slowly when it was over, tucking Vader's softening cock back into his pants and re-doing the ties. Vader didn't relinquish his hair, though, going back to petting it. And his eyes, when Obi-Wan caught sight of them, were that strange mix of yellow and blue, half-lidded and full of affection.

Smiling, he said, "I'm really glad I didn't kill you, Obi-Wan," and finally let go of Obi-Wan's hair. Then he grabbed Obi-Wan by the collar of his tunic and guided him up onto the sofa, kissing him. If Vader minded the lingering taste of his own ejaculate, he certainly didn't show it, and the kiss lasted for several minutes. Indeed, it was Obi-Wan who finally pulled away, slumping against the backrest.

"You certainly know how to lay on the charm, Anakin," he said. "I do believe that's kindest thing that anyone has ever said to me."

Vader slumped back as well, chuckling darkly. "You're just going to keep calling me that, aren't you."

"Darth Vader is a title," said Obi-Wan, matter-of-factly. "Anakin is your name. And while I admit that I'm far from an expert on the matter, it does seem rather strange to call somebody by their title while engaged with them in intercourse." He quirked his eyebrows. "I would also like to note that you don't seem to mind it at all until  _after_  the fact."

Vader snorted. "And I'm already reconsidering the whole not-killing-you thing. That has to be some kind of record."

Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet, and looked down at Vader with a small smile. "I've said it before, have I not? My life is in your hands."

Vader was on his feet in seconds, grabbing Obi-Wan by the wrist. "Are  _you_  glad that I didn't kill you?"

"I have no strong feelings on the matter one way or the other," he said, because it was true. Obviously, there were things he could only do if he were alive. But without having mastered Qui-Gon's technique, he would have no way of regretting his failures in death. It would all simply be over.

The thought was not an entirely unpleasant one.

Vader released his wrist, running a hand through his hair. "You know what? Just – call me whatever you like."

"That's very generous of you, Darth," said Obi-Wan. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I shall get some rest."

With that, he walked up to the bedroom and lay down, and was unsurprised when he felt the bed shift as Vader lay down beside him. After laying there for a few minutes, he realized that he was very thirsty, and that he needed to use the 'fresher. "Anakin?" he said softly, not sure if Vader was still awake.

"Hmm?" came the sleepy reply.

"Would you mind getting me some water?"

"Sure thing," he said, without hesitation, and rolled off the bed.

Obi-Wan went about doing his business in the meantime, then crawled back into bed. He was so very tired, and his eyes were closing of their own volition, urging him to sleep.

"...Obi-Wan?"

He didn't open his eyes, using the Force to pry the cup of water from Vader's hand and set it down on the bedside table. "Thank you," he said. He was so, so tired. "Will you let me sleep?" he asked.

"Of course I'll let you sleep." He felt Vader's hand stroking his hair gently. "Of course I will."

"There is no 'of course' with you." he murmured. At least, not anymore. In hindsight, he wasn't sure there ever had been.

But when he finally drifted off to sleep, it was with the memory of before. When he was hopeful, if not happy; when he had still believed that everything would somehow work itself out, because Anakin Skywalker would never let him down.

And, for a few blissful, fleeting moments, Obi-Wan allowed himself to pretend that he never had.


	5. Chapter 5

Vader awoke when he felt something ominous stirring in the Force. His master, he realized, with a stab of annoyance. The wrinkled old sociopath was probably angry that Vader had delegated responsibility in his latest mission to one of the Moffs. But Vader saw no reason why he was necessary in overseeing the integration of some minor system into the Empire when there were plenty of adequately competent underlings to do it in his place. Even if it was the sort of assignment he normally found quite engaging, it was simply not of interest at the moment.

Not if it meant having his mind invaded constantly by thoughts of Kenobi, with no hope of respite for weeks on end.

He glanced over at the still-sleeping Jedi, and began to reach out to shake him awake. But before his hand connected with Kenobi's shoulder, a memory stirred.

_Will you let me sleep?_

And then another, far older memory – even less welcome. His own words, from a different lifetime.

_How well would you sleep, knowing I failed you?_

His lips twitched downward into a frown, and he withdrew his hand. The old man clearly needed his rest, since he likely hadn't been getting any decent sleep for years. His body, though muscular from a physically taxing desert existence, was far too thin; his hair and beard were equal parts auburn and gray. His face, which had once seemed perpetually youthful, now showed the beginnings of lines etched into his forehead and around his eyes.

And he was beautiful, even so. Perhaps even more beautiful than Vader remembered, because he was  _here._ Because he was  _his_.

Vader could admit, if grudgingly, that he worried about leaving the man alone for too long. He doubted very much that Kenobi would actively take his own life, but it seemed likely he would do only the bare minimum to keep his heart beating. Jedi were abnormally resilient, it was true, but even they would eventually succumb to a life of continuous deprivation. It was clear that living in the wilderness of Tatooine had already caused Kenobi some measure of premature aging; not eating properly for extended periods would surely finish what the hellhole of a planet had already started. He made a mental note to rid the residence of all alcoholic beverages before he left again.

And to think: it all could have been avoided if Obi-Wan had simply stayed by his side to begin with. If he'd been able to see past his attachment to the Order, and understood the necessity of the Jedi's destruction.

If he'd loved Anakin Skywalker more than his own misguided sense of duty.

Bitterness welled up in his gut at that thought, and he seriously reconsidered his decision to let Kenobi sleep. The man had hidden from him for so long, after all – it was only fair that he make up for lost time.

But no. Vader needed to contact Sidious as soon as possible, so he wouldn't be able to take advantage of Kenobi's wakefulness in any case. Besides, Kenobi would probably be better company after getting some proper rest.

With one last look at the Jedi's sleeping form, Vader left the bed and went about getting dressed in his formal attire.

* * *

Vader went to his ship in order to contact his master, not wanting the man to be given even an inkling as to where Vader really was. As always, the sight of Sidious' disfigured, sneering visage was enough to make Vader want to puke. To think that he had once trusted this man – even  _cared_ for him – was infuriating. Which was just as well; he needed the anger to mask his true motives.

"Your insubordination is growing tiresome, Lord Vader," said the Emperor, his voice and hologram distorted due to the distance between them. "When I instruct you to oversee an operation, I expect you to do so  _personally._ "

"You've already made it clear that you care little for the welfare of the Empire," Vader said coolly. "I imagine we can discover the depths of the Force without me overseeing such matters personally." Of course, Vader was fully aware that this wasn't about Sidious caring much for the inner workings of the Empire, beyond it not being a distraction to his true goals. It was about Vader's obedience. He expected Vader to follow any and all commands, no matter how pointless or petty. It was immensely satisfying to see the man, so used to being in control of everyone around him, become increasingly frustrated by his lack of acquiescence.

It wasn't as though Sidious could kill him, after all. Even if he was powerful enough to do so, he needed Vader alive for his greatest ambitions to be realized. He could probably find himself another apprentice amongst the Dark Siders he'd recruited as imperial agents, but none even remotely approached Vader in power. And it had been his power alone that Sidious had lusted after since the very first day they'd met – perhaps even before. Unless Vader proved himself mutinous rather than simply disobedient, Sidious would grit his teeth and bare the humiliation.

"And what matter was so pressing that you could not stay and do as I instructed?" asked Sidious.

Vader smirked under his mask. "I don't see how that's your concern, Master. But if you must know, I decided to go to the Pod Races."

"You lie poorly, Lord Vader," Sidious hissed. "Do you believe that you can hide your true intentions from me?"

Shrugging, Vader said, "Really, Master – so _paranoid_. You know very well that I still need you alive."

Even through the distance that separated them, Vader could sense his Master's fury. There was a pause, and then: "You will not abandon your duties in this manner again, Lord Vader. For your sake." And with that, the hologram flickered off.

Vader's satisfaction didn't last for long.

As amusing as it was to keep Sidious on his toes, Vader knew that he couldn't take such liberties too often. Not because it would anger his Master, but because he was in a position of leadership within an Empire that he one day hoped to rule. It was important to establish a reputation amongst his subordinates of being efficient and trustworthy.

In other words, everything that his own Master was not.

He wasn't much of a politician, but he knew that the Galaxy needed a leader who actually cared about the future of the Empire. And he knew that the common people would welcome a change of leadership, in light of how Sidious had left Imperial administration to the sorts of petty, power-hungry sadists that he favored in court.

The sort of people who were often hiding crippling neuroses under a thin veneer of confidence, and who sought to recreate the worst sins of a dead Republic stuffed full of self-serving plutocrats. There was a competent leader here and there, like Tarkin – despite the man's crippling reliance on technology – but the vast majority were simply leeches who had fallen into the Emperor's favor because they shared many of his least pleasant personality traits.

When Vader was Emperor, he would tolerate none of it. And if Kenobi stayed by his side as an adviser...

Well, first he had to find a way to keep Kenobi close by, lest the man die of malnutrition.

* * *

Kenobi was still sleeping when Vader returned, and Vader took some time to change back into his casual clothes. Then, struck by a sudden hunger, and slid onto the bed and under the covers, reaching into Kenobi's trousers. He savored the feel of Kenobi's cock hardening as he stroked it, taking it eagerly into his mouth. Above him Kenobi was stirring, making sounds that might've sounded sleepy to someone who didn't know him. But years of sleeping in the field had conditioned the man to wake silently, so Vader knew that it was his actions that were the cause.

A hand came down to rest on his head, and for a moment he wondered if Kenobi was going to stop him. But the hand began to pet him instead, which Vader took as encouragement.

There would come a time when Vader would tease Kenobi to the point where he was a gasping, shivering mess. There would come a time when he would see if he could get his former Master to beg him for release, the way Padme once had. But now was not that time.

He needed to taste Obi-Wan properly.

It didn't take long before Obi-Wan was making those amazing gasping sounds, releasing into Vader's mouth. And he swallowed it all, running his hands up and down Obi-Wan's thighs, allowing the older man's pleasure to become his own. He then slid up Obi-Wan's body until he emerged from under the covers. Surging forward, he kissed him hungrily – not caring at all that the older man's mouth was stale with morning breath – and grabbed one of Obi-Wan's hands, pressing it against his own hardness.

He pulled back from the kiss just enough that he could say, "Touch me," against Obi-Wan's lips. He didn't bother to try to keep the desperation from his voice, knowing that Obi-Wan could sense it anyway. Obi-Wan said nothing, resuming the kiss, and dipped a hand under the waistband of Vader's loose-fitting pants. Obi-Wan's hand was warm and calloused, his grip firm, and Vader's own release came with almost embarrassing swiftness.

Breaking off the kiss, he reached down to grab the hand that was still petting his softening cock, and lifted it to his mouth, licking it clean. "Sleep well?" he asked, once he was done.

"As well as I normally do," Kenobi replied, his voice still hoarse from sleep and arousal.

Vader couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or roll his eyes, so he settled for curling into Kenobi's side and brushing his lips against the exposed skin at his shoulder. "That's a pretty spectacular non-answer," he said, and was very pleased when Kenobi began to run a hand through his hair.

The silence that stretched between them wasn't exactly comfortable. Sated for now, Vader couldn't help his thoughts from turning to the matter of wanting to keep a Jedi Master by his side in the middle of Imperial military operations. He was fairly certain he could count on Kenobi not to do anything too stupid, so long as Organa's life was forfeit. But the risk of his discovery was something over which he had far less personal control.

Sidious had been thorough in purging the Galaxy of the holorecordings which had once made Skywalker and Kenobi famous, but Vader had little doubt that there were many who still remembered the Hero With No Fear and the Negotiator. Especially among the age group that made up the bulk of his stormtroopers.

Oddly enough, Kenobi's fingers brushing over his scalp actually helped him focus his thoughts. Within a few minutes, an idea struck him. "Do you remember that time you faked your death and took on the identity of Rako Hardeen?" He had to quash the surge of anger he got from the memory. It had been the first time he'd become aware of just how much his former Master was willing to hurt him for the sake of duty, after all, though many more instances were to follow.

"What of it?" Obi-Wan replied. Vader could hear the frown in his voice.

"Didn't one of Dooku's bounty hunters develop the technology to disguise someone holographically?" There were more lasting, convincing means of changing one's appearance, as demonstrated by Obi-Wan's own disguise as Hardeen. But Vader had no desire to have Obi-Wan change his face in such a permanent fashion again.

"Yes." The fingers left his hair. "Somehow, I doubt this is simple nostalgia."

Vader kissed his shoulder again, mouth curling into a smirk. "You didn't think I was really going to leave you here, did you?"

"This is reckless, even for you," Obi-Wan groused, though there wasn't much feeling behind it. "Even beyond the risk of discovery, you must know that I have a far better chance of escaping if I have access to transportation."

Vader trailed a hand over the flesh of Kenobi's stomach, watching the muscles jump. "But you won't escape," he said. "How would you find out what the Empire is up to if you did?" A sigh was his reply, and Vader chuckled. "Don't take me for a fool, old man. I know the way that you think." There was also the matter of Organa's life, but Vader decided not to bring that up. He had made himself clear already, and Kenobi was no fool either.

"Well, you don't have the technology yet," said Kenobi, pushing himself upright. "Perhaps I should don a mask in the meantime. Did your Master preserve those of the old Temple Guards as a memento of his victory? I may as well wear one, after all, since you seem determined to abandon subtlety altogether." The words felt like a slap in the face, leaving Vader seething as Kenobi walked to the 'fresher. He resisted the urge to follow, going instead to the kitchen to heat up some meal packs.

It was clear that Kenobi wasn't keen on the idea of accompanying him, but that raised the question of  _why_. Surely the man wished to learn more of the Empire's tactics and long-term plans, nevermind that Kenobi had to be thoroughly sick of a quiet, isolated existence. Surely even  _Kenobi_  couldn't take his self-imposed punishment so far. Unless there was more to it than that. Indeed, Vader sensed an ulterior motive at play.

Narrowing his eyes, he vowed to discover what it was.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly not sure where I'm going with this, but it's the first thing I've been able to write in months. So I'm just going to update as new scenes come to me. Maybe a plot will sneak in at some point. Rating subject to change.


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